If at first
by Mah'alleinir
Summary: Steve had always been amused that no one seemed to think him capable of killing. Not even Tony, though Steve was sure he was truly the one who had no idea what it meant to have your life on the line, to know death deep in his bones. until that changed, and all it took was watching him die, silent for once in his life. And all he wanted was to protect him.(Stonyish, minor torture)


Alright, I really haven't had much of a chance to write lately, and I promise I haven't abandoned Sweet Whispers of Tomorrow or anything, I've just been busy lately. But then last night around 2 am when I was trying to sleep, admittedly having listened to this song far too much, this just popped into my head as a short little story, and I figured why not? So I hope you enjoy this, and I'll be trying to get back into writing when I have the time.

_"I was born sick, but I love it. Command me to be well."_ **Take me to Church -by: Hozier**

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At first, Steve found it amusing that everyone seemed to think that he was incapable of actually killing anyone when it was necessary. That they found him to be the perfect pillar of justice; pure, right and forgiving. They never realized how terrifying, how horrible some of the things he'd been forced to live through had been. How the heat anyone's blood was in raised the middle of a firefight, positive you were about to die every few seconds. How awful it was to know that, hey, maybe the guy across the foxhole from you was a nice guy. One with a loving family, who treasures them, only forced to fight by chance and happenstance of being born at the wrong time. How much it hurt to have to kill that man anyway, because of you didn't, it would be you on the receiving end of his bullet, you bleeding out, craving your family and loved ones, knowing damn well you'd never see them, that they would be hurting when they found you were dead.

Maybe that was what irritated him, at first, so much about Tony. The guy had never known the pounding pulse of a real fight. He'd never known how it felt to be completely out of options, watching friends die all around him. To him, this was some sort of game, just another way to pass the time, maybe, because he could. Because he was rich and bored and -honestly, a bit suicidal,- no one would stop him. He found it funny that Tony seemed to think Steve was so innocent when it came to death and violence. He constantly found himself thinking, when he was forced to work with the Avengers, that Howard would be sickened by what his son had become. A danger junkie, with no understanding that he was just putting himself in danger.

Then, it stopped being funny. It stopped being so black and white, so easy from him to think see him only how he decided to. Tony suddenly stopped being the stupid, rich genius who didn't know what he was doing, who was just in all of this mess for kicks. All it really took was for them all to get captured out of nowhere, Tony without his suit, and no way to get away. All it took was being forced to watch the man get tortured, skin sliced through, cutting smooth, curved-almost artistic- lines over the already scarred skin. To watch him accept what was happening almost silently, for once in his life not bothering to speak. The look in those hazel eyes was one Steve had never even thought to look for in the man: acceptance of the situation. Fearful and agonized, but as if it were all familiar.

For whatever reason, he was the only one their captors bothered with, like the only reason they'd kept the rest of them was because they would just get in the way if they were left on their own. All they could do was watch as the cult carefully and slowly drained Tony of blood.

He never bothered to find out what they wanted from it all. He didn't think he would be able to handle knowing.

All Steve wanted to do from the second he woke up, draped in chains and he realized what had happened, all he wanted was to protect him. And he couldn't. Even before he realized Tony wasn't even with them, locked in the moist, makeshift prison behind a glass wall to a clear view of them working, locked doors baring their way. Before they saw the first knife draw blood, he could feel a panicked, painful throb in his head, screaming at him to protect the one person that almost always drove him insane just to be around.

In the end, to all of their surprise, it was Tony who got them out of the mess.

Steve almost missed the small twitch of the man's eye when the cultist currently working on him turned his back. He almost missed him slipping from the bonds he had clearly loosened previously without anyone noticing. He just barely kept himself from jumping in surprise when the man carefully walked up behind the other and extracted the knife from his hands before the man realized what was happening. The cultists death was quick, clean and over before he could even turn to look at Tony. It wasn't clumsy or ill advised, as Steve would have imagined. He himself would probably have done much the same, given how much blood had been drained from the man, it was clear he wouldn't be conscious much longer. It as rational.

Still, the other man quickly stumbled over to the computer terminal before any warnings could go off, showing none of the silence or grace he'd exhibited only a few short seconds ago. From the angle he was placed, Steve couldn't see what it as the genius did on the system before he did, in fact, pass out... hell, even if he had, it wasn't like he would understand. It was easy enough to guess what it was, however, when their doors keeping them all secure shifted open, and not twenty minutes after that the air force was there, subduing what remained of the cult in the area. There wasn't much for them to do, other than clean up after the anger the Avengers had released as soon as they broke free from their chains.

His own anger had surprised him, snapping the thick metal binding him as if it were twine, but he didn't bother with going after anyone. From the fire in Natasha's eyes as they passed each other, it was clear she and Clint would be perfectly capable of handling it. And given the roar of anger and the crackling of thunder the shook the building, Thor was clearly just as displeased. Bruce was, thankfully, unconscious, and had missed the ordeal. As angry as he was, he knew rationally that having a Hulk in this situation would only put the others in danger.

He didn't waste time with the cultists, instead ran over to where Tony was sprawled along the stone floor, and quickly gathered the man into his arms, careful not to handle him roughly, trying to stop the blood as it still oozed slowly from the wounds.

He hated giving the man over to the professionals once the military arrived, barely restraining himself from snapping at them to be careful. He waited impatiently throughout the ride back to Shield Headquarters and as they looked him over to make sure he was not injured himself. Waiting for Tony to be patched up, given a transfusion and be placed in recovery almost drove him mad.

It was that waiting that convinced him to do something he'd been putting off for far too long. He read Tony's file, like he should have before he'd had to work with the man. He couldn't bring himself to, not before. But this... he needed to know, now. He owed it to his teammate to actually know what he'd been through, what had made him become Iron man.

It was no longer funny. He was no longer the one who people didn't understand, the one that was taking something he was ill-suited for.

After that, he refused to leave the mans side, watching him carefully, refusing to be removed.

All he did when Tony woke up, confused and in pain was gently drape himself over him, whispering at him how happy he was that the man was finally awake. He knew he shouldn't be the one being comforted, but he didn't complain when uncertain fingers began stroking through his hair or the man's chest vibrated under him as he hummed to him soothingly as he himself fell asleep for the first time in what felt like weeks.

As soon as he woke up, he agreed to move into the Tower Tony had redesigned for the team, that no one had bothered to consider. He agreed to be part of a team instead of just a group that were thrown together. He knew it was different, with every look between the two of them, every long night they held conversations on the roof when neither of them could sleep. When he finally convinced himself to kiss his friend, when the person he loved responded like he was starving the taste.

He knew it was different. He knew he'd finally found where he belonged.

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Alright, really short, I know, but like I said, been a while since I've written anything, and at least it wasn't a depressing ending. Hope you guys enjoyed.


End file.
